Page 67 of Deceptive Desires

“Roman, it’s not your fault someone broke in,” I tell him. His breathing halts for a second before he leans down and kisses the top of my head. “I’m just ready to put this behind me.”

He coughs awkwardly. “Umm, about that…” He sighs. “He messed up your apartment pretty badly. The place is trashed. I’m really sorry, sunshine. I know how much you love it here.”

My heart breaks further. All the things Gracie and I spent years collecting, using our last pennies to buy, the memories spent together… all of them are gone. Broken. Destroyed.

“How… how bad is it?” I hesitate, hoping beyond belief everything is salvageable.

“He must’ve been high. The place is destroyed. I don’t think you’ll be able to live here. Hell, I don’t even think you’ll get your security deposit back.”

Tears well in my eyes again. I don’t know how it’s even possible with how much I’ve cried.

The front door opens again, and I feel nauseous.What now? Who could it possibly be?

Roman stands and gently sets me on the bed.

“No! Please don’t go!” I beg him, not wanting to risk him.

“I’ll be okay, Cecilia. I promise. Lock the door behind me.” He kisses the top of my head, pushes some hair behind my ears, and approaches my bedroom door.

We hear two sets of footsteps throughout the apartment.

Roman pulls a gun from under his jacket and holds it at eye level, as I’ve seen them do in Gracie’s crime documentaries.

Roman opens the door silently, shuts it behind him, and takes off.

“POLICE! DROP THE GUN!” a woman shouts from the living room.

“I’m Cecilia’s boyfriend, not the robber. I got here about eight minutes ago, and he was already gone. Cecilia is in her room on her bed. She can confirm. I’m lowering my weapon now, but you’re not going to be putting handcuffs on me.” Roman’s voice bleeds through the walls. It’s strong and firm. He knows what he’s doing.

But what is he doing? You can’t just tell officers not to arrest you. I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.

“Cecilia, it’s just the cops. Come out of your room, please, sunshine,” Roman instructs carefully.

I rush out, not wanting to find him detained because he’s bossing the officers around.

“I’m Cecilia. I’m the one who called. This is my apartment. That’s my boyfriend, Roman. He just got here. The robber is gone. It’s okay–” I halt abruptly as I take in my surroundings.

Our coffee table is broken. Our couch is ripped up along with the armchairs, the ones Gracie and I brought from an estate sale. Our TV is shattered. I turn to the kitchen. Our cabinets hang off the wall. Our ceramic dish set that we thrifted is broken, shards sprinkle around the kitchen like diamonds.

Everywhere I look, remnants of my once homey apartment lay destroyed and unsalvageable.

My whole life, everything I own, is wrecked.

“Miss? We need to get your statement,” the woman officer who must be in charge tells me. But I can’t move.

Roman crosses the room in three strides and pulls me to his chest, crushing me into him.

“She’ll talk when she’s ready,” he growls at them.

“Miss, we need a statement now. We have other places to be, and since there is no longer an active threat, we can get going once a statement is made.” She flashes me a tight smile, and I can tell she means well.

“Okay. I’ll tell you what happened.”

And I do.

I tell them everything. And they ask questions along the way. I’m not much help since I didn’t see his face or anything distinguishing, but they don’t make me feel bad. Well, except for the other officer’s scowl.

“How do we know there was even a robber?” he hisses out, his hard eyes bearing into mine.